


Shadows

by Virtual_Reality



Series: Steve and Bucky through the years [17]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Anxiety, Anxiety Attacks, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Depression, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Feels, Hurt Bucky Barnes, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve Feels, Steve Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 13:01:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3769489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Virtual_Reality/pseuds/Virtual_Reality
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I've added the Avengers to the fandom list because of all the different characters I mention. That being said, if you are just now finding this because of the expanse on the tags, I shall explain. This is a part of a series based off the Captain America movies, comics, and my own ideas. The entries are all related, and chronological, so things may not make sense if you use this as a starting point. As always, do what you want.</p><p>For my returning readers: Awesome! You came back! I missed you!</p><p>I'm sorry for the delay, I had internet trouble, (Literally wrote a huge chunk of this in a cafe) and I was also distracted from writing this by a little prompt that wouldn't let my brain go until I wrote it.</p><p>*collective gasp*</p><p>I know, I know, I don't have time for that. Forgive me.</p><p>Also, my little brother screwed around with the autocorrect, and I've caught some really weird errors! If I missed any, I'm SO SORRY! Try not to die laughing like I almost did... XD</p><p>Finished editing this whilst half asleep. It could definitely use another round of editing. You've been warned.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Shadows

**Author's Note:**

> I've added the Avengers to the fandom list because of all the different characters I mention. That being said, if you are just now finding this because of the expanse on the tags, I shall explain. This is a part of a series based off the Captain America movies, comics, and my own ideas. The entries are all related, and chronological, so things may not make sense if you use this as a starting point. As always, do what you want.
> 
> For my returning readers: Awesome! You came back! I missed you!
> 
> I'm sorry for the delay, I had internet trouble, (Literally wrote a huge chunk of this in a cafe) and I was also distracted from writing this by a little prompt that wouldn't let my brain go until I wrote it.
> 
> *collective gasp*
> 
> I know, I know, I don't have time for that. Forgive me.
> 
> Also, my little brother screwed around with the autocorrect, and I've caught some really weird errors! If I missed any, I'm SO SORRY! Try not to die laughing like I almost did... XD
> 
> Finished editing this whilst half asleep. It could definitely use another round of editing. You've been warned.

"What's that you're taking?" Steve asks, and Bucky's shoulders tense as he slips the little foil pack of pills back in its box.

"It's nothing."

"You can tell me things, y'know," Steve whispers, "I want to help."

"I know." Bucky stares at the two blue pills resting his palm, before pouring a white one from the next bottle, "I'm fine."

"Bucky..."

"It's not a big deal, Steve. It's... Prescription."

"For what?" Steve presses, cautiously.

Bucky is quiet for several moments, unscrewing the lid from a water bottle in a thoughtful bitterness. What could he say? Happiness? Peace? Sleep? Salvaging the remaining bits of his sanity? So he can feel something. So he can be this Bucky that everyone loves so much? So he can respond to Steve through the fog of his apathy. That was the only emotion he seems to be capable of these days. Apathy. it wasn't pleasant by any means, but it was too numb to be unpleasant.

"They're antidepressants." He finally says, "They help," James insists, "Sort of."

Barely at all, honestly, and he has to take a hell of a lot of them with the serum compensating for it. He doesn't know how Steve does it. James had a much lower dose that affected him much differently. Tony had even estimated that the effects would wear off eventually. That his body would adapt, James had originally been disappointed, now it gave him hope.

Steve says nothing, and James takes the pills before he can feel the guilt, but his stomach is in knots, and it doesn't seem to settle. Lying next to Steve, on his back, to take the pressure off of his upset stomach, his head on Steve's bicep, James waits for the nausea to pass.

After only a minute, he has to move, get under the comforter, because Steve doesn't move closer, doesn't wrap his warm arms around him, and James is shivering - another mystery, why his body temperature always ran so low. Steve's is completely opposite, but Hydra had fucked him up good, and they might never understand his...Symptoms. He pulls the blankets up to his neck, and after a moment, tugs them loose, and throws it over Steve, too.

He waits, for what, he's not sure he knows. A word of comfort, maybe. A hug, a goodnight kiss, some cuddles, some warmth, a smile... Something.

Anything.

"Why would you hide that from me?" Steve whispers.

Bucky sighs, "Because I didn't want you to treat me any differently." He whispers, "You've been great, and I don't want that to go away."

Because you're finally happy, and I don't want to ruin that.

"Bucky..." Steve breathes, and turns on his side, moves to put an arm around him, hesitates, draws it back, then moves in again, settling it around James' waist cautiously. Bucky wants to push him away because this was exactly what he was talking about. This caution. He can't stand it.

It had been a gradual journey to the point when James had gone to Sam for help. It took a lot for him to return to him after he'd betrayed his trust, even if that betrayal was ultimately for his own good. He was put on two different types of antidepressants by names he can't remember from a doctor who's name he can't remember - someone who was an expert on the serum or something - a man with curly hair who came straight to Stark Tower. The same man, he was told, that had a hand in his blood transfusion. That had been a mess...

James still saw his old friends - Clint, Natalia - who calls herself Natasha now, Sam, and Tony, though none of them seemed to live here - not even Stark! Steve said he had more than one mansion, and he switched between them, James can't understand how someone would need more space than the floor he and Steve shared, let alone the tower. Another mansion seemed impossible. He hadn't let his thoughts carry him further than that.

Tony had returned his arm to him - well, not exactly. He'd designed him a new one. Apparently, Stark was good with gadgets and things. It had been sleek, silver and almost seemed delicate compared to his other one. It was a lighter weight, and fit much more comfortably. Stark had assured him it wasn't dangerous, and even promised him another - one with all the fancy bells and whistles - when, and if he decided to start small missions like many of the rest of them. James had not liked the sound of that. He was done with missions.

Steve's apartment had been coming along quickly, but the longer James stayed in Stark Tower, the more it felt like home, and though none of the others live here, with their frequent visits, it almost felt like having a family.

James made the mistake of voicing these thought to Steve one morning from across the breakfast table, and thought Steve was going to cry. He'd composed himself quickly, instead, reaching across the table to give his hand a gentle squeeze, and let it slide, at least until they were alone.

James had stopped telling Steve when he remembered things soon after. He felt like he was constantly getting his hopes up for nothing. Most of the things he remember seem insignificant to James, mere shadows of himself, and even when they were memories with Steve, they very rarely held any emotional significance to him.

An eight year old Steve, eyes sunken with deep circles beneath them, his smile missing a couple teeth, looking up from his bed as James entered the room. He'd given Steve a hug and an orange, sitting by his bedside to stumble through the words of a novel. It was a distant sentiment, reading to a sick Steve, but the significance of these things were lost on him.

A twelve year old Steve, Bucky holding his hands still as a nurse stitched up his arm after a fight. Steve had been crying silent tears, gasping for breath, and trying to squirm away from the nurse's prodding, giving him this look of complete helplessness. Bucky remembered the struggle he felt as he held Steve still, knowing he was in pain, and wishing he could help, that he could get him away from the hurt, but also knowing it was for his own good. Bucky had asked the nurse to stop for a moment, give him a break, but Steve had instantly spoken up, insisting that he was fine, he could take it, and Bucky had swallowed thickly, and nodded for the nurse to continue.

That had been hard to remember, and even harder to relay to Steve for an explanation.

Most of the memories were harmless, but once, in the dead of night, his dream had shifted to the shadow of a memory. The Asset, waiting in the cover of a forest, the crunch of fallen leaves beneath his feet as he found his best vantage point, peering down the scope of his rifle, waiting for his unwitting target to come into view, finger on the trigger, ready. It had only been the beginning. From then, things got worse. Memories became dark, and graphic, and painful, filling him with grief and remorse as he was hit with memory after memory. Blood, violence, pain, apathy, triggering a never ending cycle of doubt, regret, and fear. He felt like a monster trapped inside the mind of that same scared child who's eyes he watched his memories filter back to him though.

Some called it recovery, but it didn't feel like recovering, it brought no relief. No peace. It felt like the opposite of recovery, like every taste of his previous life poisons his soul.

Bucky's eyes are still distant as he lays with Steve, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Bucky's touch is tender, and Steve can't stop the swell of emotion rising in his chest. Some of that emotion must've shown through, because, as Bucky's eyes meet his, his brows furrow, and he lets the fingers of his right hand caress Steve's face.

Stark had provided them a floor with two bedrooms, but they were used to that, especially Steve, who had all his memories. Before, him and Bucky were little more than best friends as far as anyone knew, but back then, it was important that everyone believed that story.

Now, things were safe, and it was okay to tell people they were queer - only they called it gay now, and Steve really liked that they'd chosen a word with such positive history. There was a word for how Bucky felt, too - bisexual - and it was refreshing to see that so much had changed. Now, they not only could tell people - "Come out" was the phrase for that, though Steve doesn't know why - they didn't have to hide anymore. Steve's PR agent had insisted he wait until James was more stable before making any statements, and Steve had no problem agreeing, old habits die hard, and Steve doesn't want Bucky in the spotlight yet. Bucky agrees, and they go about their charade, at least in the public eye.

Bucky doesn't speak as he settles on Steve's chest, eyes searching Steve's face for the rejection he wouldn't find, and his touch communicates more than words ever could. Steve let the silence linger, the whisper of their breath mingling together as Bucky leaned in, surrendering to the feeling. The touch of his lips soft, and sweet. Somehow innocent, and honest, like it was their first.

Bucky's eyes search his face when he draws back. Silent, fluid movements, almost as if they were happening in a dream. He sits back, and the fabric of his shirt slips from his body, and he leans forward, trying to get closer. He felt the warmth of Steve's hands caress his ribs, and he let his eyes slip shut for a moment.

"I wish I could remember you - how I felt about you..."

The whisper of Steve's fingers over his skin. His back. His neck. His jaw. His thumb skimming Bucky's lower lip. A small shift, and Steve's lips were on his again. Softer, slower than he could remember them being since... And there was still something missing, and he can't remember, but it's okay, because he's safe. For now. In the solace of Steve's arms.

"It's okay, Buck."

Steve felt the drag of Bucky's breath through his kiss, soft breaths against his lips. His hair tickled Steve's face, and he brushed it back with his hands, cupping his face gently.

The kiss deepened, though still slow and tranquil, and Steve let himself get lost in the feeling.

The scratch of Bucky's stubble on his face.

The warmth of his lips and tongue on Steve's.

The gentle stroking of his hand on his cheek

James let himself pull away, and Steve was looking up at him with those eyes. Those gorgeous blue eyes, pooling with emotions, and glittering with memories. "God, I love you." He whispers, thumb rubbing along his cheekbone. "So much..."

"Don't," Bucky whispered, and he was pulling away, just like that. "Don't say that, Steve."

Steve turned Bucky's face back towards his, forcing him to meet his eyes, curling his fingers around the back of his neck, "What's wrong?"

"You can't love me," James says bitterly. "You don't even know me."

"Bucky, you don't know what you're talking about." Steve brushed his hair back, "You're my best friend."

"I'm not that Bucky anymore. I'm..." He swallowed back the emotion, shoving down every ounce of weakness just as he'd been trained, "I'm just a weapon, Steve. A murderer."

"Hey," Steve pulled him down, holding him to his chest, "Listen to me Bucky. Calm down."

"Steve... You don't-"

"No, Bucky, listen to me. You didn't do those things. You weren't you. You had no choice. You're starting to remember that now. Who you really are."

"Steve... You don't know the things that I know. The things I've done. The pain I caused."

"Bucky," Steve sighed, "We're all haunted by our past. Bucky," Steve's hand caressed Bucky's cheek.

"Not you," James said, and as soon as the words left his lips, he saw the flicker of pain cross Steve's face, only a second, then it was gone.

"Yes, even me," Steve whispers, "and you're still my Bucky - you will always be my Bucky," Steve shifted close, "and I love you."

"That doesn't change anything." James whispers, "You keep saying that like it means something, but it doesn't fix things."

"Maybe not," Steve whispers, "but everyone deserves to feel loved."

"Why do you still do this, Steve? I'm not what you want me to be. I'm not him."

"You're my friend," Steve whispers, "if you weren't before, you certainly are now. We're all here for you. I know you can beat this," and he hopes the soft words can talk Bucky down from the edge of this relapse, "I need you to calm down for me."

Bucky made a frustrated sound into Steve's chest, "You're such an idiot." Bucky mumbled, then looked straight up at him, "I've killed people, Steve. Lots of people."

"So have I." Steve's arms go around Bucky's waist, ready to hold him down if need be.

"No, you haven't, not like I have..."

"I know you're still in there. You remember more every day."

"I've killed children, Steve. Families."

"Bucky, stop. Don't do this to yourself."

"Your friend Tony in there; I killed his family. I took his parents away from him when he was just a kid. You know how bad that hurts. I have to live with that burden, Steve. I can't just forget."

"And you can't blame yourself, Bucky. You weren't yourself."

"I don't want to remember anything else. Please, turn it off. Make it stop."

"I wish I could, baby." Steve rests his forehead against James', "I really do."

"I wanted to kill you. I tried. I shot you. Twice. I remember." He placed a hand on Steve's stomach lightly, but he knew there was no scar.

"But I'm still here, and I'm not giving up on you."

Bucky made a pained noise, grabbing onto Steve's shoulders, "Why is everything so damn loud?"

"Bucky, calm down."

"What else could possibly be wrong with me?"

"You're still adjusting to the serum, it's still fighting the suppressants."

"Damn it!"

"It's like a hurricane, isn't it?"

James let out a exhausted sigh, "I'm so pissed," He smiles, "and I could cry, but fuck, Steve, I want to cuddle with you," He tucks his face in Steve's neck, "then we can break shit, eat everything in our apartment, and screw like bunnies."

"That sounds about right," Steve laughs, "no more one track mind."

James groans, throwing an arm over his eyes, "It's fucking bright in here. Turn the lights off."

Steve chuckles, and moved to slide out of bed.

"Hell no," James murmurs, catching Steve 'round the waist before he can get away. "Get someone else to do it." He rolled onto his stomach.

Steve flopped back onto the mattress, and spooned up against him, tugging the plush comforter over their bodies, "We used to make love under the blankets, y'know." Steve whispered, smiling into Bucky's skin.

Bucky startled out of his thoughts, "How the hell did we do that? We barely leave the mattress in place most nights."

Steve laughed, "Well, I wasn't always this big." Steve sighed, "We started under the blankets, they fell off after a while, of course." He traced Bucky's collarbone, "You were so worried about me getting a chill. Your body heat kept me alive most days."

"I have dreams about that," Bucky whispered, "when you were small."

"Those are the best." Steve whispers.

"Yeah." Bucky murmurs, rolling onto his left side, giving Steve long enough to spoon up behind him before pressing back against him. "Any special reason you brought up said lovemaking?"

"No, Bucky."

"Because I'd like another exaggerated demonstration."

"Maybe later," Steve exhales softly, "you're not in your right mind."

"Now you fuckin' tell me." James mutters, "I didn't notice."

"We're not doin' this while you're vulnerable."

James groans dramatically, turning in Steve's arms to look up through his lashes into his eyes. "I could convince you."

"Not this time."

James pushed himself closer, resting weakly on Steve's chest. One more shift, and his mouth was under Steve's jaw, sucking at the skin there.

"Buck, that's not fair," Steve put his hands on James' hips, using that leverage to ease him away.

"Want me down here, do you?" Bucky murmurs, shifting down Steve's body, "That works." He kissed Steve's chest, "I like a fella who knows what he wants."

Steve laughs, grabbing hold of Bucky, and rolling over on top of him, kissing his nose. "I'm afraid I'll need a raincheck, handsome."

James just looks at him, smirking a bit, "You can do me if you want."

"Later," Steve promises.

"Bitch."

Steve laughs, and with a quick kiss, climbs out of the bed, "How about a jog instead?"

"My, my, you sure know how to spoil a fella, captain."

"I'll race you to Coney Island?"

"Buy me an ice cream if I win?"

"You got yourself a deal."

**Author's Note:**

> When I get time - stop laughing - I'm going to go back and edit the previous chapters. There are definitely areas that need clarification/improvement. I won't change anything crucial, but chapters always read easier after a good cleaning up. Yeah?
> 
> Thanks again!


End file.
